


Point of Origin

by esteefee



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010), Magnum P.I. (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Bashing, Crossover, Don't Like Don't Read, Don't say I didn't warn you, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Gratuitous due South references, Hurt/Comfort, If you like Nick Lori or Jenna, M/M, This story is an idfest, Wordcount: 15.000-25.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22785061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: If Danny had to trace it back, he would have to say it all started when this jerk of a sentinel pointed a gun at him at his own crime scene.He knew right then the baboon would be a pain in his tuchus.
Relationships: Steve McGarrett/Danny "Danno" Williams
Comments: 62
Kudos: 657





	Point of Origin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kristen999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kristen999/gifts).



> Beta by the extraordinarily gifted Jilly James. All errors introduced later by my ownself.
> 
> Warning for character bashing of Lori Weston, Nick Taylor, and Jenna Kaye. Don't like; don't read.

Danny knew two things about the guy pointing a gun at him at his own damned crime scene: a) he was a sentinel, and b) he was an asshole.

"This is my crime scene, so beat it, and you can leave the box," Danny said, puffing out his chest. "That is evidence; you know that."

"I came with this." Yeah, there it came, that look Danny got from sentinels because Danny was a suppressed guide and so somehow lesser. Well, screw him with his tattoos and his pretty blue eyes. 

Wait. Scratch that. Ugly eyes. Anyway, Danny didn't need him screwing up his evidence, the muscle-bound, sentinel jerk. 

The sentinel's response was to pull out his phone and call the governor. The freaking governor. "Governor. I'll take the job you offered." 

Danny watched in disbelief as the butthead got sworn into the police force before his very eyes. "Now it's my crime scene," the sentinel said, taking his evidence and stalking out.

Yeah. Sentinel jerk.

* * *

There were few things Danny resented more than being hauled across the country and onto a tropical island just because his wife was the custodial parent of their breathtakingly perfect minor offspring. One was to get yanked into a different division against his will by an arrogant, conceited, presumptuous knucklehead of a sentinel "...with delusions of grandeur. Are you hearing me, McGarrett? Because, seriously, who said I wanted to be on your ultra-special jackadoodle task force? Do I look like I want to guide a fatuous jackass with more muscles than mental capacity?"

McGarrett just stood there with his arms crossed, his biceps twitching, an amused smirk on his face. "Did I ask you to be my guide? Who said I needed a guide?"

"You don't...right. Because why would you need a guide when you could turn into a statue in the middle of a gunfight? That's so much more entertaining."

McGarrett sighed. "Just grab your badge and gun so we can go see what Doran knows, all right?"

Danny shook his head. "This is more of your high-handed bullshit. You have pull with the governor so all of a sudden you don't need a guide in the field like other sentinels? I wonder what they'd think at the CSGD? Maybe I should give them a call."

"Do whatever you want. Just do it walking," McGarrett said as he dragged him out the door.

Thus began an entertaining day of trying to interview a suspect, saving his new partner, ending up getting shot, and then arguing with McGarrett about the common courtesies of daily living. Seriously, was the man an animal? The man was an animal.

Still, it was the first time in months Danny hadn't felt like depressed shit and a useless fish out of water. So, maybe that was something.

After the nice EMT bandaged up Danny's arm—it was just a graze, but still, he got shot!—they tracked down one of the elder McGarrett's old partners for a lead. And the guy turned out to be a guide.

McGarrett's dad's former guide. Now that wasn't creepy.

"This is your ticket back into the game," Steve said, inviting Guide Kelly onto the task force. "Call it payback, call it whatever, but I need you."

Danny stomach hurt for a second. Heartburn, maybe, from the quick hot dog he'd picked up on the pier. Anyway, that was super—now McGarrett wouldn't be pestering Danny for any guide support in the field, thank you very much. 

Danny's abilities were suppressed and that was the way he liked it.

* * *

Next, Chin had them pulling in some hot-shot cousin of his who not only was the top recruit in her class, but was also training to be a kahuna hāhā, which meant she had special healing powers and such. 

"It's more spiritual than that," Kono said. "It's kind of hard to explain."

"Well, all I can say is you have a mean right hook," Danny said. "Welcome to the team."

Danny wasn't sure, but it seemed like Steve was collecting sensates for his special task force, which could only mean they were either going to be bad news for the criminals or just be bad news all around.

Knowing what he'd learned of Steve so far, Danny figured it was a toss up.

* * *

"How in the hell did you just—did you just parkour off that mast like a balance beam and tackle the suspect?" Danny's eyes were seriously betraying him. "How did you even know he was there?"

"You've never worked with a sentinel before, bruddah?" Chin said. "He probably smelled him or something.

"Piggyback," Steve said, nodding. Whatever the hell that meant. Steve looked at Danny and explained, "I sort of hooked my vision on my smell and I followed the trail that way. It's a synesthesia thing."

"Huh."

Okay, so maybe Steve wasn't that bad, for a sentinel. Sure, he was overbearing and demanded to drive Danny's car, and there was the fact he always breached first and would give Danny the stink eye if he got scuffed up a little.

"You're not my damned babysitter," Danny said whenever Steve patted him down after a tough one. 

"Right—you're not my guide," Steve said, grinning for some reason, and he'd bring out the gigantic first-aid kit he kept stashed in Danny's trunk next to the hand grenades. Then he'd insist on putting antiseptic on every one of Danny's scratches.

Steve wasn’t so keen on reciprocation though, like the time Danny offered to help him with the rash starting under his collar while they were stressing out on the Perlito case. Perlito was an assistant DA, so the new governor was riding their ass, and Steve was still suffering from contact rashes from being in prison. Plus, he hadn't left the office in 36 hours.

"You want me to swing by your place and fetch you some more of your skin stuff?" Danny said. "Because you'll be hamburger by the time you get out of here."

But Steve just waved him off with a smirk. "I thought you didn’t want to be my guide?"

Danny scowled at the rejection. Partners tried to help each other out, was all. It was a sincere offer, which Steve should have figured if he weren’t such a Neanderthal. The guy was apparently raised by baboons.

"Here we go, boss," Kono said, coming through like always. "The fingerprints are a match to Perlito's half-sister. They were on file thanks to a misdemeanor when she was a juvie."

"That shouldn't even be accessible," Danny said, and Kono winked.

"Looks like she's graduated to felony homicide," Steve said. "You got an address?"

"No. She's been off the grid for a while."

"But not so off the grid she doesn't beg him for money under a puppet email account," Chin said, flinging some documents up on the screen. "It appears she's joined some sort of a cult. The Children of Immaculate Wisdom."

"Oh-ho. That doesn't sound ominous at all."

"They're camped out at Keaʻau."

"Illegally, probably." Steve's nostrils flared.

"She asked him to meet her. They probably did it there then moved the body afterward."

"Let's go sniff her out."

Danny should have realized he meant that literally; like a giant, armed bloodhound in tight cargo pants, his head tilted on point, Steve led the way as they invaded the Jonestownish campground. He guided them past the smocked, gape-mouthed worshipers and right to the small tent where Tonya, the sister, hunkered down. She surrendered quickly, babbling something about insurance money for the flock.

After about two minutes in the hotbox, she gave up the brainiacs behind the plan, a couple of meth-cookers who Five-0 rounded up. That left the rest of the meth-addled congregation.

"What do you think? Can social services handle them?" Steve asked.

"The funny thing is, according to Perlito's will, he set up a trust to provide for her rehab if she ever wanted it," Kono said.

"Jeez," Danny said. "Talk about ironic."

So, Tonya and her co-conspirators went to prison. Kono made sure to give Tonya the news that she would be provided drug rehabilitation services in prison, courtesy of her brother. 

Tonya broke down in tears.

Having invaded a cult and captured the murderers with no casualties, Danny figured Steve would chill out a little, but he called a come-to-Jesus the next day.

"Denning isn't happy with how we're structured here," Steve said grimly. "He's letting the Center come in to 'monitor' our situation."

"What in heck does that mean?"

"It means tighten your shorts, bruddah," Chin said. "Things are about to get bumpy."

The next morning, a team arrived to interrogate them on their case reports.

"It says here Detective Kelly is your field guide of record, but the partner most often listed in your case files is Detective Williams. Why is that, Sentinel McGarrett?" Guide Lori Weston asked.

"That's Commander McGarrett," Steve said, the muscle in his jaw bulging alarmingly. _TMJ, TMJ_ , the tiny dentist in Danny's head chanted. 

"You had a field guide in the Navy; why do you choose to eschew standard safety practices under your task force?" Jenna Kaye, Steve's case worker, raised an elfin eyebrow.

"You never told me you had a field guide in the Navy," Danny said.

Steve crossed his arms. "I have a guide now."

Weston shuffled her papers, her frown intense. "You ride with Detective Williams. You go on stakeouts with Detective Williams. Detective Williams is not a guide."

That old sore spot in Danny's chest got a little colder. "Hey, we're doing great. Look at our track record."

Kaye raised an eyebrow. "You mean the one in which the previous governor got killed?"

Steve made a low sound and stalked out of the room.

"That was uncalled for, lady," Danny said, anger making his voice raw. "The governor's murder was a set-up from the get-go. Wo Fat's machinations go way back; our team had nothing to do with it. We're lucky to be rid of him."

"That may be," Weston said, "but part of being a sentinel is having a guide. Maybe it would have helped end the situation sooner."

"Right. Maybe you say that because you can't think of any other way," Danny said. "But Steve and I are doing just fine the way we are. He and Chin and Kono and me are a team. The best. Do me a favor and stick that in your papers."

Danny beat a strategic exit before he could blow his stack.

* * *

"She's what?" Steve looked absolutely indignant. "You can't do that."

"You took the words right out of my mouth." Danny rested his hand on Steve's arm. "You don't have jurisdiction over Five-0."

Kaye laid an official-looking document on top of the glass computer table. "The Center holds jurisdiction over all registered sensates."

"But there's nothing in the by-laws that lets you assign me a guide without my permission," Steve said, a big vein on his neck starting to tick ominously. Danny was well acquainted with that vein. If Kaye didn't back off soon, bullets would start flying.

"I'm not being assigned as your guide of record, or even as a field guide," Weston said, a placid smile gracing her lips. "I'm merely an observer."

Danny could feel the growl starting in Steve's chest as if it were his own.

"Okay, well, we'll just read up on the particulars," Danny said, snatching up the paper and putting his other hand on Steve's forearm. "Babe, let's not spill blood on our shiny computer table." 

It was obvious that Kaye and Weston had no idea the level of stupid they were dishing out with their interference until that very moment. Both their faces went white, and they nodded like two bobbleheads. 

"We'll leave you to it," Kaye said, dragging Weston out. She stared at Steve with wide-eyed fascination as they headed out the doors.

Steve stomped into his office, and a loud crashing sound made Danny worry for the fate of his desk. Danny ventured in and discovered Steve had kicked a very large dent in his filing cabinet, in the process knocking over one of the very nice snake plants Kono's auntie had brought them because she thought more green in their offices would reduce stress. 

Well, that was one way to do it, Danny supposed, righting the plant. "We'll fight it. We can fight it," he said.

"They're up to something. I can smell it on them. Why does everyone—" Steve stopped himself and blew out a breath, his lips tight. "I just want to do my job, with you—and Chin and Kono, of course—as a team," Steve finished, almost stuttering. "Why won't they let it go?"

"Hey, I know—you think I don't know? They've been after me since I was a teen, how I had such potential and if I just applied myself and meditated...like they knew me better than I knew me and I should just square up and do as they say and fall in line like a good little guide, manifest and train, find myself a sentinel, and design my life around him or her." 

"That sucks," Steve said heavily.

"Every six months or so, bugging my parents, my teachers, leaning on them to lean on me."

"Fuck, Danno."

"Hey." Danny brushed his knuckles against Steve's shoulder. "What did I say about calling me that?"

"That you liked it just fine? Found it kind of moving?"

Danny laughed, the tension draining out of him. "Uh-huh. Keep at it and see if I help you through this mess. Let's look at this thing." Danny read through the directive. It was a bunch of gobbledygook from the Center, no legal jargon Danny could see, except what Kaye had pointed out about jurisdiction. But the key word was 'registered.' 

"What does it mean when you register as a sentinel?" Danny asked. He'd always avoided all things to do with the Center and sentinels and felt pretty ignorant right now.

Steve grimaced. "All sentinels and guides have to register with the Center if they want to be used in an official capacity and make use of the Center's resources, such as in-house medical services, lodgings, legal support, stuff like that." Steve sat against his desk and took the paper from Danny, giving it a look-see. "Also, the Center negotiates contracts for sentinels and guides with third parties, mainly federal and local agencies, since sensate pairs usually go into law enforcement or the military. But also civil contracts or in the private sector. My buddy Frank, who's a sentinel civil engineer, swung an amazing deal through the Center's contract department."

"But what does the Center get out of all this?"

"Oh, they get a cut, of course."

"Of course? Of course? Does that mean..." Danny stared, horrified. "You're saying the Center gets a cut of your salary? Right now?" 

"Every paycheck. Right down the line," Steve said ruefully.

"Jesus Christ, Steve. It's a racket!"

Steve rubbed his jaw. "They're providing a service."

"They're rooking you. You could hire a lawyer for that shit. Pay them hourly and never again. You could go to a spa when you need pampering. Go to a doctor when you need—"

"Only a few spas have the sentinel-safe services we need. Most doctors don't specialize in sentinel disorders. Sure, they have sentinel sections in the emergency room, or they have an on-call sentinel specialist at the hospital. But, let's face it, it could save my life to go to the Center instead of waiting half an hour for a doc to show up from across town. They'd probably be trained and contracted through the Center anyway."

Danny shook his head. "That's only because there's no demand at present. If more sentinels and guides needed direct treatment, then more docs would go into specialized practice—"

"And then there would be more available in hospitals. Huh. I see what you mean. Something to think about."

"You should do more than think about it." Danny snatched the paper from Steve's hand. "Because this, my friend, is what a monopoly looks like. They saw you stepping out of line and they jumped all over your ass."

Steve's expression changed, hardening into stone. "They can't... Weston isn't my guide. No one else is riding with me."

Danny couldn't deny the spreading warmth in his chest. "Well, I should hope not," he said fiercely, "considering it's my damned car."

Steve grinned. "Now that gives me an idea."

* * *

"What is this?" Weston said when Steve and Danny pulled up to the curb at the CSGD for her "ride-along."

Danny climbed—with some difficulty—out of the Fiat Spider Kamekona had found them and pulled the seat forward. The space in the back could fit Mr. Hoppy on a good day. Weston stared at him in disbelief.

"Oh, sorry," Danny said airily. "The Camaro is in the shop."

Weston had to sit sideways behind the front seats. She was tucked in the space the top usually folded into. 

"Comfy?" Steve asked. 

"Super," Weston said.

"We've got a kidnapping, teenage girl. Got to burn rubber." Steve proceeded to do just that. Danny was grateful to be sitting in the front seat; he couldn't imagine how it felt to be sitting sideways getting thrown around as the little Fiat hugged the corners like a race car.

"Oh, my God," Danny heard Weston groan at one point. He shot a look sideways and saw Steve grinning to beat a Jack-o'-lantern. Danny tried not to laugh out loud. 

It was more of the same the whole case. Steve sent Weston to monitor the parents of the kidnapped girl and, after her rollercoaster ride, Weston seemed okay with the duty. Later, she kicked up a fuss about being sidelined, but Steve didn't seem to need her guide-y mojo, as far as Danny could tell. He was his typical, ornery self, insisting on riding a big, stinking horse to the suspected area where the girl was being held. Then he went galloping off to go rescue the girl without Weston or Danny's help.

Although, Danny was there afterward to cuss him out for taking off without backup.

"You should have seen it, Danny. I shot out the tire of the plane at, like, a hundred yards with my sidearm." Steve and Kono had a thing going with trick shots.

Danny just shook his head and offered Steve his handkerchief. "Good shot, Annie Oakley. Now wipe the schmutz from your face before you give yourself hives." He went to go book the suspect.

"Do you do that a lot?" Weston said, running after him. 

"Do what? Take care of the paperwork? Always." 

"Don't kid yourself, Detective. You’re doing guide duties. Checking on Steve's status. Keeping him in optimal condition."

"I don't know how you read all that into me giving him a handkerchief."

"Which you wetted down with your water bottle. And you patted him down as well, which is guide-check behavior."

"That was a smack on the shoulder, which is 'atta-boy' behavior, or haven't you ever been to a little league game?"

Weston shook her head and walked away. Danny read the suspect his rights and handed him over to HPD along with the charges. Then he gave Chin and Kono a call with the good news. When Steve came back from returning his horse, his face and neck were clean, Danny saw approvingly. Also, he felt like a thundercloud.

"What happened now?" Danny said with a sigh.

"She said you were 'overstepping your bounds as an unauthorized guide' and that she was going to report you to the Center." Steve stopped and clenched his hands around his belt. "I've had it, Danny. I swear to God, I'm gonna—"

"Hey, hey...did it ever occur to you that you can get more flies with vinegar? Or, in this case, as my Uncle Lew likes to say, 'Sometimes you got to call in the lawyers.' I think this is one of those times."

"Huh." Steve's eyes brightened. "I think I know just the guy."

* * *

"Hey, Fryer." Danny stood up when the office door opened. "Good to see you."

"Yeah, man. You look good." Steve said, looking even better, in Danny's opinion, having donned a suit and tie for the visit. "How's the gut?"

"It's fine." Fryer leaned on his cane, a heavy, ornate thing with a brass head. "Like I said on the phone, the meals you sent by were a big help, so thanks a lot."

"No sweat. We're all just glad you made it."

"For a definition of making it. I sure the hell miss being a cop."

Danny winced sympathetically. He wasn't sure if he'd exit the job as gracefully as Captain Fryer had. But then, the guy was damned lucky he'd survived his assassin. 

"I didn't know you were a lawyer," Danny said.

"Ma insisted I go to law school. She wanted me to join her uncle's firm and be a big shot." Fryer turned and waved them ahead into his office. "When she passed away from kidney disease, I quit the firm and joined the force. Dad never spoke to me again. They'd both be laughing pretty hard right now."

"Well, I know Danny and I aren't laughing," Steve said as he took the chair on the right. "We need your help."

Danny bit his tongue at the 'we.'

"Someone's after you, that's for sure." Fryer sat down behind his desk and opened a file. "You specifically, Steve, although they've manipulated Chin in the past as well." He tapped the desk with his pen. "We have to sever your relationship with the Center. I've already spoken to Chin, and he's given me license to proceed on his behalf with the governor." 

"They're after us in particular? You mean they don't do this to everyone? Danny has a theory this is just the way the Center keeps people in line."

"Oh, it's more than that. I had my old hacker CI dig up a little dirt. Do either of you guys know a guy named Nick Taylor? He works for the Center; he's director of the Hawaiʻi chapter."

Danny watched Steve's face go stiff. "Bulldog? He's an old buddy from the 'Stan. You can't be saying he's part of this."

"He's in it up to his ears. Sorry, Steve," Fryer said.

Oh, shit. Danny knew that look. Steve shot to his feet and dusted down his suit. "Let's go."

"What?" Fryer looked justifiably confused, but then he didn't know Steve the way Danny did.

"You can prep us on the way to the governor's. But you said you had the papers ready, right?"

"Yup. It's all right here." Fryer tapped the folder. "We have to negotiate your future employment with the state of Hawaiʻi."

"Then let's go."

Danny shook his head. "Boy, I love going in blind."

Steve shot him a grin. "You should be used to it by now."

* * *

Danny accompanied Steve while he swaggered—there was no other word for it—through the door of the Oahu Sentinel and Guide Development Center with Fryer and Chin on his other side. 

The security guard came on a quick diagonal to cut them off, trying to direct them to the security desk. "Sir, you can't bring weapons in here."

Steve was having none of it, apparently. "My badge trumps yours...Kelekolio, is it?" Steve led the way over to some chairs by the reception area, nodding Fryer into a seat.

"Thanks," Fryer said.

"Sir—"

"I'm sure your superiors won't mind if we just wait here." Steve looked up, and Danny saw the moment he'd located the nearest camera, because he smiled a deadly smile and said, "Just tell Nick Taylor that Steve McGarrett and friends are here to see him."

"Yes, sir," Kelekolio said and left quickly. 

Steve started pacing like a panther in a very small cage. 

"Hey." Danny poked him on the next pass. "We're gonna take care of this."

"Yeah, we are." Steve stopped and ran a hand over his hair. "Nick always seemed a little jealous of my abilities. But Jesus, Danny, that doesn't mean they can try to control us."

"You and Chin, you mean."

"Or you, Danny, or Kono," Chin said. "Your official status doesn't matter."

"Yeah," Steve said intently. "Danny—"

"The director will see you now," Kelekolio said diffidently. "Please follow me."

Steve's expression shuttered, and he turned to Fryer to offer him a hand out of the short, cushy chair.

"These asshats don't know thing one about accommodating people," Fryer said with a growl. Danny nodded.

"I wonder what they do with guides and sentinels who are too old to siphon money off of?" Chin said.

The question was more than a little disturbing and it made Danny want to grab Steve and drag him far away from this rotten place. The feeling doubled when elevator doors swished silently open onto a grand private office, and Danny got his first gander of Nick "Bullfrog" Taylor. The hairs went up on the back of Danny's neck.

"Smooth Dog!" Taylor said with fake delight, moving forward to shake Steve's hand.

Steve stepped back into the gap between Danny and Fryer and crossed his arms. "Taylor. I figured you re-upped, but I didn't hear what you got up to afterward." Steve made a show of looking around. "I guess this is it, huh?"

The smile smoothed from Taylor's face, and he spread his arms. "Pretty nice, huh? Better than the sandbox." He circled around his desk and made a show of sitting down in his big leather chair. 

"If you like that sort of thing," Danny inserted. "Cushy job, sitting around skimming the earnings of hard-working sensates."

"Hey, now. We provide a necessary service—"

"Gentlemen, if I may," Fryer said. "We've come here with a specific purpose—"

"Now you're in for it," Danny muttered.

"Who is this clown, Steve?" Taylor said, but he looked at Danny with calculation.

"—which is to sever the legal obligations of Detective Chin Ho Kelly and Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett to the legal entity known as the Centers for Sentinel and Guide Development, International."

"What?" Taylor's voice grated. "You can't do that. You two have binding contracts." He punched his phone. "Gary? Get someone from Contracts to my office, stat. And you get up here, too." Taylor hung up the phone and glared.

Fryer sat down, Chin taking the seat on his right. There was only one other chair, and Steve gestured for Danny to take it. 

"Nuh-uh. I'll watch the door."

Steve smiled at him then, eyes crinkling, and sat in the other chair facing Taylor with Danny at his back. "It seems you've been trying to interfere with our careers, Nick. Why is that?"

Nick leaned back with a leathery creak and laced his fingers across his stomach. "I don't know what you mean by interfering. The Center often gets involved in the working lives of its charges in order to assist them with their contracts."

"Which is a fancy way of saying you screw with us to make more money."

"Tsk-tsk. Slander, and with your lawyer sitting right there."

"It's only slander if we ain't got proof," Fryer said, reaching into his briefcase. "And we got some. You really need to pay your lower-level employees better." He dropped his folder down onto Taylor's glass desk with a satisfying slap. 

Danny grinned. The door started to open at his back, and he spun, hand on his holster. But it was only a couple of suits wearing frightened expressions, no bulges at their waists. One of them had a very shiny laptop clutched in his arms like a security blanket.

"Ah, gentlemen," Fryer said. "Come join the party. I was just about to present Mr. Taylor with some compelling reasons for why the Center will be releasing my clients, Lieutenant Commander McGarrett and Detective Chin Ho Kelly, from any and all legal obligations and liabilities."

"Ah, uh, I'm Gary Swanson," the computer-hugger said. "I'm from records? This is Mr. Harriet, our contract lawyer. I've brought the contracts."

"So have we," Fryer said. "Let's see if they match up."

It only took a few minutes for Fryer and Swanson to compare the most recent contracts Chin and Steve had with the Center, and then Fryer grinned. "Here's where it gets interesting: these contracts become void when the governor's term ends. Of course, they specifically mention the governor's term, and not the year. That's because the Center has some weird quirk that goes back to the old days about not contracting with businesses, but with individuals."

Danny raised his hand. "Oh! Oh! I know why: because the Center basically pimped guides and sentinels out for use, and they liked their property returned undamaged. So, they had to have someone to hold responsible."

"I have to object to the term 'property,'" Harriet said.

"Object all you want," Fryer said, "and then learn your own history. The Center wanted an individual responsible, not a company. Only here's where it bites you in the ass, because Governor Denning isn't the contract holder of record, Governor Jameson is—or was. When she died before her end of term, the Center made no effort to redraw the contracts, I guess assuming that when the Lieutenant Governor was sworn in, the contract continued unabated."

"Big mistake," Steve said, putting a little heat into the words. "Big mistake, Nick."

"Just a formality. No one has ever contested a continuance before. I'm sure a civil court would tell us your service is still ours." Nick Taylor's eyes burned a bright blue at Steve across the desk. Danny had to resist jumping across and tearing the asshole's throat out. 

"Is that so?" Fryer replied. "Well, I like our odds. That's why we visited the governor early this morning and re-negotiated Detective Kelly's and Commander McGarrett's contracts with the police department without the Center’s interference."

"You won't get another penny out of us," Chin said grimly.

"You got too greedy, Nick, just like you always do. This is what it gets you," Steve said. Danny came to stand at Steve's shoulder, adding his support.

Taylor sneered. "Dangerous move, Steve. The Center has a lot of influence. If I were you, I’d void those bad-faith contracts."

"Excuse me?" Danny said, squeezing Steve’s shoulder to keep him from coming out of the chair. "Tell me you didn't just issue a threat in front of our lawyer. That's just plain stupid."

"Not a threat! Of course not," Harriet said hastily. "Mr. Taylor was simply stating his opinion that the center's legal position is very strong in this matter."

"Right," Fryer said. "Well, it's our considered opinion that you're full of malarkey, and that's why we issued this letter requesting the Center cease and desist exacting all tithes, levies, deductions, dues, surcharges, and fees on the incomes of Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett and Detective Chin Ho Kelly back-dated to the swearing in of Governor Denning and thus the end of Pat Jameson's term as Governor."

"You owe us a wad of cash," Steve said. 

Taylor's face turned red with fury. 

Fryer leaned forward. "As Director of the Oahu CSGD, please sign to indicate your acceptance of this letter." He shoved the letter and a signature page across the desk to Taylor, who visibly snarled as he took it. He looked to Harriet, who must have nodded, because Taylor then slashed his signature across the bottom and tossed it back. Fryer passed it along to Harriet to sign as a witness then signed it himself.

"Thank you, gentlemen," Fryer said, sounding smug as a bug.

"If that's all?" Taylor said through his teeth, still staring hard at Steve.

"Oh, we're just getting started," Steve said then stood up. He held out a hand to Danny, and Danny handed him the papers that had been burning a hole in his suit pocket since they got there. "The Center is served with the following search warrant in connection with suspected bond interference."

Taylor leaned back with a creak. "You've got to be shitting me."

Chin said, "Told you we got evidence. You messed with the wrong cops."

Steve nodded at Chin. "I'm pretty sure we'll find it was your stupid idea, Nick, but let's see what else we've got." He handed Harriet the warrant. "We'll need all your records on me and Chin, everything you've got, and Chin will help you hand them over, just in case you decide to get an itchy delete finger."

Chin cracked his knuckles. "I'm here to help."

"Just think of him as IT," Danny said, and Steve snorted while Taylor fumed.

* * *

Chin's face was flinty with disgust. "The Center didn't think Malia was a good match for me. In fact, any sentinel who doesn't go into law enforcement or the military is considered faulty in some way. Malia is a level two as well, so my good buddy Patua, who I thought was the only one other than Kono who stuck by me after IA came after me? Well, turns out he was a Center plant. No wonder he went on and on about how crappy for her career it would be to have an ex-cop with a dirty rep hanging around. Patua disappeared after I broke up with Malia."

"Jesus, Chin. That sucks," Danny said.

"The Center knew I was innocent, too," Chin said, throwing a file up on the screen. "They were just waiting to pair me with an upper level sentinel."

"And then Steve came along." Danny was starting to get an ugly feeling. 

"We're going to prosecute them, yeah?" Chin said. 

"Yeah. You should go call Malia, though."

Chin bit his lip. "It didn't end so well. And it was my fault."

"Don't be stupid, Chin. Even if it's too late, she still deserves an explanation." Danny gave him a moment to chew it over. "She deserves to know you were both manipulated." 

Chin smiled suddenly. "Yeah, you're right. Boy, she'll give it to me. But honestly? I'm kind of looking forward to it. Tell Steve I took the afternoon."

"You got it." Danny went back to the piles of files, this time digging into Steve's. If they'd been that interfering with an HPD detective, what would they have done to a Navy SEAL and lieutenant commander? 

Steve came in as Danny started to get an inkling. 

"This is unbelievable, Steve. Did you see they have records going back to before you manifested? How did they even know?"

"Maybe because my grandfather was a sentinel. He served. They must've been expecting it would pop up in the family line again."

"No, but—you don't get it," Danny said. "This info should be protected. They shouldn't have it."

"Huh. Well, we can't arrest them for that."

"No, statute of limitations. But we can get them for interfering with Chin's bond with Malia, and this is definitely a sign that...oh, shit."

"What?" Steve came around the computer table before Danny had a chance to minimize what he was looking at. "That's you. What are you doing in my file?"

"Steve..."

Steve stepped back shaking his head. "No. I want to know what—why do they have..." His face shut down and he reached for his phone. "Hey, Duke. We need another warrant on the Center's records. This time for Detective Daniel Williams."

* * *

This time, when they went to the Center, they were met with more resistance. A lot more. The single security guard had been replaced by an armed security squad, and the leader stepped forward as soon as Steve, Danny, Kono, and Chin entered the lobby.

"I'm sorry, but you'll have to wait here," the heavyset guard said. His pale, bland face looked unimpressed when Danny held up the warrant.

"This is a warrant to search the premises for any and all paper or digital documents pertaining to Detective Daniel Williams—that's me, by the way." Danny slapped it against the guard's forearm. "The Center may have paid your salaries, but are you willing to go to prison for interfering with a police investigation?"

Two of the guards looked at each other, but Mr. Macho looked unfazed.

"Mr. Taylor said we don't have to let you in."

"Maybe he needs sweeter inducement, Danny," Steve said. He must be trying on good cop for a change. 

"What kind of inducement?"

"Tell him if he lets us by, we won't shoot him in the foot," Steve said, which was why good cop was Danny's job.

"Nice, real nice, Steve. Well, Mr. Macho? How about it? You want to let us do our job, or you want to be shot in the foot? I promise one way there's a lot less screaming, and the other involves a ton of physical therapy."

"Physical therapy sucks," Kono said mutinously.

"She's not kidding—she had a full reconstruction on her knee. Can you imagine?" Chin said, stroking his shotgun.

Mr. Macho went an even paler shade of white and finally motioned his guys back, saying something in code into his radio. 

"Hope that doesn't mean 'Quick! Erase everything; they're coming,'" Danny said.

"Don't worry." Kono pushed the button on the elevator. "They can't hide their data from me."

The same nervous guy from records, Swanson, was there to meet them. Taylor was nowhere in sight this time. Swanson gave Kono access to his own computer and to the network and then stepped back. Steve side-eyed him but continued his restless sentinel pacing.

Swanson edged toward Danny.

"What?" Danny said, annoyed by his proximity. Steve turned his head and glared. 

Swanson ducked his head. "Nothing. Just...I...nothing." He took a few steps away, and Steve went back to pacing.

"Oh, this is cute," Kono said, and Chin murmured in agreement. "A phantom database. As if, boss." 

"We've got it," Chin said and connected a drive. 

"Seems a little too easy," Danny said, looking at Swanson.

"I'm cooperating with the police," he responded a little too loudly, and Steve frowned.

"Swanson, if you've got something to add...?"

"No, no, nothing," Swanson said. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his mouth.

Steve tilted his head and then turned away abruptly. "I'm thinking shrimp after this. We owe Kamekona a visit to his truck."

"Yeah, I guess," Danny said, a little weirded out by the change of subject. 

Kono said, "We've got what we came for, Steve. It's all transferred."

"All right. Let's make tracks." They collected their gear and headed out. Swanson trailed them to the elevator, and his sweaty face was the last thing Danny saw as the doors closed.

"Well, that was just weird," Danny said as they walked to his car, and Steve stepped on his foot. "Ow! Get off me, you big lug. You've got size fifteen boats for feet."

"Sorry about that." Steve stopped and said to Chin and Kono, "See you guys back at HQ."

"Later, Steve."

Danny fumed for a bit, getting a nice steam up once they were on the road before breaking out with, "What in hell was that about? You stomp all over me; you hustle me around?" It had been a while since Steve dared strong-arm him like that. 

"I'm sorry, buddy. I was hearing stuff and you weren't... Danny, usually you're vibing with me but whenever we're in the Center it's like there's a damper on our signal."

"Excuse me, 'vibing'? You did not just use that word. What are you, a 60s granola head?" 

"Vibing is a perfectly legitimate—wait, don't send me off track." Steve slammed his palm into the steering wheel. "You always do this whenever I talk about guide stuff. And I get it, I swear I do, Danno. But, this time, the Center is after you. You can't turn a blind eye."

"Who's turning a blind eye? I'm here, aren't I? Getting the evidence?"

"Yeah, but I'm not talking about being my partner." Steve turned affectionate eyes toward him. "You're a great partner, the best. You're just a little sensitive."

"Sensitive? Oh, _I'm_ sensitive. Me, the one without super senses."

"Yeah, you, the one who won't let me talk to you about this stuff." Steve pulled into the parking lot at HQ and flipped off his seatbelt. "And I couldn't let you talk about Swanson in the parking lot because we weren't far enough away. If I could hear them, despite white noise generators, some sentinel on payroll was bound to hear us."

"So? What about Swanson?" Danny jogged a little to keep up, and Steve slowed to match him. 

"He said something to me under his breath just before we left. He has information he's willing to trade for amnesty. So, I suggested Kamekona's as a neutral spot. I'll contact Kamekona with a description and when Swanson shows up he'll get us down there."

"Okay. God knows I could use a good meal."

"You should stop living off coffee."

"Terrible coffee." Danny pushed open HQ's front doors for them and was less than happy to see Jenna Kaye lounging against the information desk. Fortunately, the officer manning the desk was too wily to let her upstairs. The HPD had revoked all of Kaye and Weston's access to HQ. 

"What are you doing here?" Steve said. He nodded to the officer on duty and beckoned her to an alcove.

"I'm still your caseworker, Steve, whether you like it or not." 

"I've cut all ties with the Center."

"But the Center hasn't cut ties with you." She eyed Danny. "There are things you need to know for your physical health and safety."

"Oh, nice, lady. Dangle that carrot, why don't you," Danny said. "You had all the time in the world to offer pamphlets when he was under your thumb. Why now?"

She pressed her lips together. "Because the Center has detected an exponential increase in his performance. And with that increase there are attendant concerns for hyperreactions such as hypertrophic pulmonary syndrome, persistent recurring dermatitis—"

Steve scoffed. "A rash? Big deal."

"A rash that persists until it grows into gangrenous lesions?" Kaye raised an eyebrow. 

Steve crossed his arms. "I don't need the Center to cure me of a rash, Jenna. Thanks for the offer. Now, please leave."

Danny added. "We'll be making note of this visit in the logbook. The Center is verging on harassment with this stuff. Watch you don't get implicated in the suit we're going to bring down on them."

Kaye left with a scowl on her face, and Danny waited, out of courtesy for his dumbass of a partner, until they got inside of their offices. And then he rounded on him. 

"You knew already, didn't you? I know that mug of yours, and you weren't even a little bit surprised at her big news."

Steve bit his lower lip and shook his head. "I didn't know they knew. But, c'mon, Danno. You've seen some of the stuff I've had to do with my senses since Five-0 took off. We've really had to step up our game."

"Right, right, right." Danny started pacing. "And you didn't think to mention to anyone that your sentinel powers are going through the roof?"

"I didn't need to; you were there. You were part of it," Steve said, strangely intense.

Danny shook it off. "Or that a whole passel of complications come along with when that happens?"

"I'm fine, Danny. Completely."

"And what if you aren't?" Danny came to a stop and put his hands on his hips. "What if you need a sentinel doc and you can't go to the Center because, guess what? We've cut all ties? What happens then?"

"It's fine! I told you I had a plan, didn't I?"

"Is this one of your 'launch grenades first, ask questions later' plans, or something a little more on the reasonable front?" Danny walked into his office and sat down behind his desk, feeling suddenly exhausted. Steve followed him in and leaned a hip on his desk. Danny stared up his long torso and felt a ridiculous pang in his gut. _Shut up, gut,_ he told it.

"I've been talking to Malia," Steve said. "When Chin broke up with her, she let her contract with the Center lapse. She and Kono have been working with the poorer kids who have ka ʻōpū—that's the sentinel or guide spirit. The kids aren't contracted to the Center but they still need aid, and now Malia and a bunch of other docs have formed a sensate medical group right under the Center's nose. They're willing to expand their services to adults."

"Oh. That's not a stupid plan."

Steve grinned suddenly; heartbreakingly wide. "Wow...a compliment."

"Shaddup, you."

"Malia said we could tell the other sensates." 

"Who are the others?" Danny didn't want to meet them. He didn't want them staring at him for being a suppressed latent, judging him for not trying or whatever. It was none of their business. "You know what? Forget it. Listen, I have to go pick up Grace, so if we're done for today...?"

"Danny..."

"See you later, Steve. Good luck with the pow-wow." 

Danny bolted.

* * *

Kono cornered him at his place later on that evening. Grace was in her PJ's, playing with her Mermaid Dr. Barbie, so proudly created by her own self and dressed in a doctor's lab coat and carrying a tiny doctor's bag and everything. Danny admired her imagination but couldn't quite figure how Barbie'd get her tail into the ambulance.

"Why, hello, Kono. So nice of you to call ahead," Danny said, letting her in. "Peanut, it's time to get ready for bed."

"But Mermaid Dr. Barbie is just about to conduct surgery on SpongeBob, Danno!"

"Is SpongeBob's life in danger?" Kono foolishly asked.

"Yes!" Grace shouted.

"Like, heart attack danger, or overdose of Krabby Patties danger?" Danny said. "Because you know I can tell the difference, and it's already twenty minutes past bedtime."

Grace slumped and started putting all her creatures back into her toy bag. "If SpongeBob dies it will be all your fault."

"No one has ever died of ketchup poisoning, monkey." Danny helped her get the bag zipped up and all clothes gathered together for her morning dash. "Go brush your teeth and hop into bed, and I'll come tuck your toes in, okay?"

"Okay, Danno." She gave him a quick squeeze and ran off.

"She keeps getting cuter, Danny," Kono said.

"The bane of my existence, this cuteness. It's pretty hard to bear." Danny went to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of beers.

"Has she been tested?"

Danny froze. "I don't see any reason why I should—" 

"I'm not saying you should," Kono said, casually taking one of the bottles off him and cracking it open. "That's not the way we do it in Hawaiʻi, you know." 

"Yeah, that's been brought to my attention recently."

"I was just curious if she had the test before you guys got here."

"No. Can't say it ever came up." 

Kono raised a skeptical eyebrow and took a sip of her beer. She was deadly with the eyebrow. She should get a dramatic role as Spock's sister. 

"Okay, maybe Rachel and I had some words on the subject. A time or two," Danny said, opening his own beer. "Not that anything came of it, because my baby girl is not a guide."

"She's got more than a little of the spirit in her. But then so do you, Danny. Why does it bother you so much?" Kono's eyes were warm and concerned. 

"It doesn't bother me; why should it bother me?" 

"Daddy? I'm ready," Grace yelled. 

Kono smiled. "Go."

Danny escaped to Grace's tiny closet of a bedroom—all he could afford but better than the studio he'd had previously—and carefully tucked in her toes. "Good? Nice and tight?"

She nodded. "Is Kono going to sleep over?"

"Oh, no, monkey. No sleepovers. Everybody has a busy day tomorrow."

"'Kay. G'night, Danno."

"Goodnight, sweetheart." Danny gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Don't let the centipedes pinch." He grabbed her foot on the way out just to hear her giggle.

In the living room, he found Kono relaxing on the couch and looking through a thick file folder. She must have brought it with her because it wasn't one of his.

"What's that?"

"The Center's files on Detective Daniel Williams. It's a pretty sick read, brah."

"What...what have they been up to? Hand it over." Danny took the file and started glancing through it. His stomach sank. "They've had their hooks on me from the start." Pages and pages, starting from his first sensate experience on a playground when he was six years old. This was like seeing his life through a distorted mirror, reading evaluations and strategies and accounts throughout his life, all the Center's approaches, all their twisted machinations. "Oh, my God." Danny wiped a hand over his mouth. "They want me to... Is this—did Steve see this?"

"He's the one who gave it to me to give to you. I don't know if he read it." 

"Oh, God." They'd tried so hard to get to him, to get him, and he saw now how much he'd resisted unconsciously, but how much it twisted him up inside. "I'm gonna be sick." 

"Hey, hey, Danny." Kono came to sit beside him and put a hand on his back. The warm contact helped a lot; Danny acknowledged secretly, internally, that touch always grounded him, that he reached out often. He knew it was guide behavior. But also, there was something about Kono's touch that made him less jittery.

"Thanks," he said, thinking he should lean away, but Kono put her arm around him and pulled him against her in a sideways hug, and he felt his nausea ease. "They've been after me all this time."

"You rated extremely high in your original test. Did you look at this score, Danny? They're speculating you could be the highest rated guide in North America since Ray Kowalski."

"And a perfect match for Steve," Danny said dully.

"Potentially."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it?" Kono gave him a squeeze and patted his leg. "Easy. Easy breaths, brah."

"You're not so bad at the kahuna thing," Danny said.

Kono laughed a little, then said soberly, "Listen, Danny, did something happen when you were a keiki?"

Danny's throat went dry. 

"'Cause you know that's a thing, right? You're inactive for a reason. The same thing happened to Senchineru Jūrō Iwai and Sentinel Ellison when they were children. Iwai experienced thousands killed in a tsunami, and Ellison saw his mentor being murdered. They both went latent and suppressed their—"

Danny jumped up and lurched to the bathroom.

"Oh, shit," Kono said behind him, and then Danny was tossing up the mozzarella pizza he'd shared with Grace and the two beers he shouldn't have had on a school night.

"God," he groaned into the pristine white toilet, one of the things that sold him on the place, other than the spare room for Grace, because there was nothing Danny found more depressing than a beat up, decrepit old bathroom. It really brought down the character of a place.

"You doing okay in there?" Kono said.

"Let a guy hurl in peace, would ya?"

"I kind of feel responsible."

"You aren't responsible for anything," Danny said tiredly as he rose to his feet and flushed. He took a gander at his drawn features in the mirror and washed his face briskly then brushed his teeth. Afterward, he looked almost human.

"Sorry about that," he said as he came out.

Kono gave him a once-over and nodded her head. "You don't have to tell me, but you should probably talk to someone about it."

Danny shrugged. "Someday. Maybe." Benito's face flashed behind his mind's eye. "I'd rather not wake the dead if I don't have to."

Kono tilted her head and said, "Somehow, I don't think you'll have much of a choice."

* * *

After he read about three pages of Danny's case file, Fryer filed suit on Danny's behalf as well. A few days later, Danny went over to Steve's house and brought a couple six packs of his favorite beer.

Steve took the beer as the silent apology it was. They went out to the lanai and kicked back, Steve pretending to observe things way too far out in the water and Danny calling him a dirty stinking liar.

"Humpbacks don't even come around this time of year. Hey, did you invite Kamekona over?" Danny said, well into his third beer.

"Nope."

"Then why's he coming up the grass?"

"Oh, right. The kids." Steve turned in his lawn chair. "Hey, Kamekona. Want a beer?"

"No, thanks, bruddah. Here's the news." Kamekona handed Danny a sheaf of papers. "From the haole Swanson. The list of all the little keiki on Oahu who the Center have been after. Me and Kono and Malia have finished talking to all the parents, and most of 'em are willing to testify against the Center for harassment."

"Jeez, that's fantastic, Kamekona. Mahalo." Steve traded a fist bump.

"It's my pleasure. These little keiki might have ka ʻōpū, but it's tradition not to bother them until it shows itself. Those men are evil."

"We'll get 'em, buddy."

"You know it." Kamekona thumbed toward the gate. "I gotta go. I think Flippa has been skimming shrimp to feed his puppy."

"How do you know?" Danny asked.

"I can smell it on the little guy's breath."

"That's one lucky puppy."

"Not for much longer." Kamekona rattled the shaka. "Laters."

* * *

Steve didn't push Danny on what they found out in their own files. Danny felt both grateful and more than a little resentful, but if that was how he wanted to play it, Danny would take the win.

The CSGD, now buried in law suits, backed off. The news was a ten-day sensation in the press, not just on Hawaiʻi but the mainland as well, and Nick Taylor was fired with extreme prejudice as a scapegoat, to Danny's tremendous satisfaction.

"You okay with that?" Danny asked Steve when the news came over the radio, and Steve just shrugged, his hands tightening on the steering wheel. A great communicator, this guy. "Because I know he was your pal in some tough situations," Danny said, trying to go easy.

"He wasn't the guy I thought he was," Steve said grimly.

There was no sign of Kaye or Weston around, no more threatening letters from the Center itself, and the team was left alone to raise its own usual brand of chaos, with Steve, of course, at the front getting into trouble at every opportunity.

Danny got to be very handy with the sentinel-safe antiseptic.

"Have you ever seen a wall you didn't need to jump over? I'm just saying: what's the problem with going around sometime?"

"I like over. Over is good." Steve grinned brightly. 

"You utter noodle; I despair of you reaching fifty. Strike that, forty; let's see you make forty."

Steve’s face scrunched up, like reaching the grand old age of fifty sounded difficult to fathom. Danny made it his mission to keep a closer eye on Steve and his issues. Because, boy, he had a house full of them.

Speaking of which, Steve was still living in the place where his dad died. Threw a rug over the bloodstain and called it a day. What the hell was up with that? Who taught this monkey what a home was like? Someone had to civilize him, and Danny figured, with no one else around, it was his job. 

He wouldn't claim the endeavor was a purely selfless one. For one thing, maybe he'd get to drive his car occasionally. Also, Danny figured life would be more bearable without McGarrett scratching his skin off or treating them all to a zoned-out stare. 

And not so selfless at all, considering the time Steve got spiffed up for him in his Navy uniform to help Danny from losing Grace in family court. Maybe the Navy had taught Steve a thing or two about being a gentleman after all. Danny figured he'd ease up on the G.I. Joe jokes after that.

"You have to know how grateful I am for this," Danny said after he got the good news call from his lawyer. Steve's testimony had done the job.

"C'mon, Danny." Steve put his hand on Danny's arm. "Your ohana is my ohana, okay? How could you not know that?"

"I know. You know I know. Do I need a rock to my head?"

"Been there; done that." Steve grinned, and shit, Danny thought. Shit. Well, here was a problem. 

He had it bad for Steven McGarrett, the trial of his life. Who knew?

"Listen, I have to go. Gotta give Grace the good news."

"Yeah, sure," Steve said, looking a little let down at the sudden change of tone.

"See you at work." Danny took off and went to meet Grace. And settle his head. Knowing Grace wasn't going to get yanked away by Rachel and Stan, knowing Steve was invested, too, that changed things. Danny couldn't deny it. 

Steve was still a baboon's ass, though.

* * *

A bomb went off and buried them in a metric ton of rubble. But that wasn't really the problem. The problem was Steve.

"Why you gotta do that? Why do you always have to pretend to be so optimistic? You know we're gonna die down here." Danny hated the ominous creaking and groaning, he hated the oppressive weight of tons of crushed cement over his head, he hated crawling through the dark with a giant puncture wound in his side that Steve had fixed with duct tape, Jesus Christ, and he hated, he really hated, Steven McGarrett's optimistic Pollyanna chirping. "When a bomb buries you under a tons of concrete, the reasonable thing is to throw in the towel and admit you're goddamn terrified and you're gonna die."

"I don't admit anything. We're going to make it through this, Danny. There's a way out. I can hear the rescue workers, I can smell the fresh air." Steve coughed and cleared his throat. "We just have to keep going."

"I hate you. I hate you so much."

"I know you do." Steve sounded so fucking fond of him. Danny just didn't get it. "Keep moving."

"How are you not going out of your sentinel mind? I know unbonded sentinels have problems in enclosed spaces. Something about their radar going wacky."

"Oh, you know that, do you?" Steve said absently.

"Yeah. I read about it."

Steve turned his flashlight on him. "You what?"

"I read things." Danny shrugged. "Lower your flashlight, would you?"

"When were you reading about unbonded sentinels?" Steve looked almost alarmed.

"Some flight magazine. On my way back from Jersey," Danny lied through his teeth.

Steve turned and started crawling ahead. "Oh, shit," he yelled suddenly, "Incoming!" and covered Danny as the building started falling around them again. When the dust cleared and Steve stopped coughing up a lung, he patted Danny down urgently.

"I'm fine! Fine. Ignore the duct-taped hole in my side," Danny said, a little breathless from being felt up by the big monkey. How did Steve not smell bad? He didn't. Well, he was sweaty, but it was a good sweat. Danny wanted to lean into his neck and fall asleep.

"Danny?" Steve stopped with a hand on his cheek, eyes wide.

"Fine. I said, didn't I?" Danny forced himself to straighten. "Are we getting out of here, or what?"

"Right." Steve swallowed and turned away. He slowly inched his way forward and then stopped with a soft curse.

"What?"

"A big chunk of cement has cut off our route." Steve's shoulders dropped. "We'll have to blow it."

"Blow it. We'll have to blow it up," Danny said, giggling. "In an unstable tunnel, two hundred feet down under tons of cement. Because explosions always equal the answer."

"Because it's the only way through, Danny." Steve's eyes glimmered at him in the cast off from the flashlight. "Look, I get where you're coming from. But you can't live your life always expecting the worst possible outcome. You can't do it. It's a miserable way to live." 

"So, I should expect something better and be disappointed?"

"Or try for something better and be happy for once." Steve flashed a smile; weird, but in the decaying light, it looked a little sad. "Come on, let's get this done." He turned and got busy with his grenade while Danny flattened the pipe, and then Steve set the wadding from his lighter as a fuse.

"Back up," Steve said. 

"Hold on. Before we do this, I just want you to know one thing."

"What?"

"Whatever happens, I really, really, from the bottom of my heart, hate you so much."

There was a dead pause, and then they both started laughing, Danny groaning. 

"I love you, too, pal," Steve said quietly. 

"I guess there's a lot worse people to die under a big pile of concrete with, huh?"

"You want to do the honors?" Steve said.

"Nah. This is your stupid idea," Danny said. "You do it."

No one was more surprised than Danny when they were pulled out into the light. And maybe that was the point of what Steve had tried to tell him. What Danny never said was if he expected the very worst all the time, it was wonderful when he was proved wrong. It felt utterly fantastic, like flying into the sky.

And he was over the moon to see his monkey standing there waiting for him, although he was a little peeved Amber overrode his wish to keep Grace in the dark about the danger they were in. But Danny's joy at being alive took the win, and having Grace with him after that ordeal made it all worth it, even as they waited in the emergency room.

But he started to feel uneasy for some reason while he was getting stitched up and injected with antibiotics, so he borrowed Amber's phone to call Lou, who told him to get his ass to the ICU. 

"Why? What's up?" Danny gently pushed Grace off his gurney and reached for the pair of scrubs the nurse had left for him. "Monkey, hand me my wallet and keys."

"Steve's down here," Lou said. "He's suffered sensory shock syndrome. That's when—"

"A sentinel goes into a fugue state from overload. Kind of like a zone-out but not quite, more like traditional shock, but from the senses instead of injury."

"Yeah." Grover sounded surprised. "Anyway, Chin is still directing the evidence crew down at the disaster site, so you'd be a good second best if you could get down there."

"I'm not a guide," Danny said weakly.

"Right. Whatever, Hoss. Malia brought in a guide nurse but she doesn't seem to be helping none."

"Okay. I'm heading down." Danny hung up and handed the phone back to Amber, turning to Grace. "Monkey, do you mind going home with Amber for now? I'll be there in a little bit. Uncle Steve needs some help."

"Can I come?" Grace appealed to him with her big brown eyes, and Danny winced.

"Sorry, lambchop. No kids allowed in the ICU. Only big, tough old meanies like me."

"That sucks."

"Yup." Danny turned to Amber, but she was already rolling her eyes.

"Sure thing, Danny. Come on, Grace."

Danny raced down to the ICU and then had to cool his heels for a bit while the on-duty nurse checked his credentials.

"You aren't a guide, Detective Williams. There's no stamp on your badge."

"Right, but I'm McGarrett's partner."

"How are you Sentinel McGarrett's partner if you're not a guide?"

"Could we argue semantics later? My partner is in triple sensory shock right now. It would be real swell if he didn't cash it in; I'd hate to have to break in a new guy as the head of Five-0. Not to mention I'm kind of fond of the guy, just as an aside."

"All right, all right." She pushed a button and the big door to his right swung open. "He's in 405. Go on in, Detective."

Sometimes being a cop had its privileges. "Thank you very much." 

Steve looked like utter crap. He had an IV and a tube up his nose and he was pale and sweaty, his eyes open just a slit.

Danny pulled up an uncomfortable chair. "Hey, pal. Hey, what're you doing falling apart on me the instant we get out of that mess?" 

"He crashed pretty fast as soon as you left," Lou said from the doorway, a couple of hot coffees in his hands. He handed one to Danny, who took it with a greedy nod. "I wonder why."

"Oh, shut up." Danny sat back and drank his coffee. Lou had been ribbing Danny for a while about the guide thing. It wasn't happening, and Danny wasn't sure how to make it clear short of fisticuffs. But he was fond of the doofus, so that was out. "Steve, this is stupid. You're making us worry here. Everything is nice and cozy and quiet in this special ICU room. No stinky smells to bug you, not even me." Danny leaned one arm on the mattress and fiddled with the edge of Steve's sheet.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Lou said. "You still smell something awful."

"Yeah?" Danny sniffed under his arm. "You're not wrong. They let me do a quick clean up, but, eh."

"Well, here's an idea—why don't you get a real shower in, and I'll keep an eye on McGarrett, here?"

"Yeah?"

"Why, sure. It can't help his recovery to have you stinking up the place, now could it?"

"Good point. I'll borrow another pair of scrubs and use the shower here."

"You do that." Lou was looking at him kind of funny, but Danny was too tired to analyze it. He just borrowed another pair of clean scrubs from a passing nurse and used Steve's shower to get nice and clean, careful to keep his dressing out of the spray. It still got a little bit damp, but it was waterproof enough that it didn't matter. He came out of the whole affair feeling fantastic, and the only thing he wished was he had some fresh socks of his own instead of the stupid anti-slip hospital socks and slippers.

"Much better," Lou said with satisfaction when Danny came out. "Now come sit down and finish your coffee."

"It’s cold by now," Danny said. Well, whined, for sure, but he deserved something hot.

"All right." Lou tapped his newspaper against his leg. "I'll grab us both some hot sandwiches and fresh coffee, how's that?"

"Perfect." Danny sat for a second after Lou left, wondering about his weird tone of voice and wishing he'd left his newspaper, and then Steve let out a soft groan and tilted his head in Danny's direction.

"Steve? Steve!"

Steve's nostrils flared.

"Oh, for Pete's sake." Danny put his wrist under Steve's nose, and Steve grunted something, smiling a little.

"Please tell me you did not go into sensory shock just because you couldn't confirm I was okay before we got split up. Because if that's the case, I will shake you, I swear to God, McGarrett."

Steve's eyes blinked at him, but he obviously wasn't all there.

"I swear to God," Danny repeated under his breath, and settled back to wait for his sandwich.

* * *

Maybe, just maybe, the guide thing was compromiseable. Danny didn't mind so much helping out on occasion—just on occasion—like when everyone on the island thought a tsunami was coming and Steve didn't think so and leaned against Danny while he examined his intuition.

That's what a partner would do anyway, right? Nothing more, nothing less. And anyway, it wasn't like Steve was asking him to move across the country to do it, or yanking him away from his family. The opposite, in fact—Jesus, Steve carried a bag of blood money with him to Colombia to try to get his brother back. And that didn't go so well, but he stood by Danny's side despite everything that happened after. 

Steve was stand up, all right. Danny didn't have to worry about that part. The big dumb ape would get himself killed before he would let anything happen to anyone he considered ohana. That was what worried Danny the most. Maybe a little clear-headed thinking would help.

"Says here, we can combine our annual twenty-four hours of mandated partner therapy into one long session if we want to," Steve said one afternoon. "Why don't we find some getaway therapy thing and make a brocation out of it."

"'Brocation'? You did not just say that word to me. Tell me you did not say that word."

"What? Buddies use it."

"Oh, my God, the things that come out of your mouth sometimes."

Steve laughed. Water off a duck's back. It drove Danny crazy. "I picked up a bunch of pamphlets; we can take a look, decide on what we like. Why should we have to find an hour here or there when we can just take off for a fun weekend and get all our mandated partner work done at once."

"The way your mind works, I just don't know sometimes."

But Danny had to admit it wasn't a bad idea, so he played eenie-meenie with the pamphlets and picked the one Steve was least likely to, which meant a serious LEO partnership training seminar on Maui.

"Oh, this is going to be super," Steve started complaining before they stepped into the lobby of the conference. "Bunch of dusty rules and regulations."

Danny exchanged glances with a nerd in glasses who eyed them then looked away. Danny frowned. "Just for the introductory session. Chill your shorts."

"That doesn't sound very comfy. Oh, wow, check out this hotel. And look at that breakfast spread. Okay, I'm in." Of course. Offer the hound some food and he was set.

During the plenary session, they heard there were two sentinel and guide pairs at the conference. Danny tugged Steve over to the snack table. The same nerd was there munching on Triscuits, so Danny edged them further over for a private confab.

"We, uh—maybe we should talk to the sensates," Danny said hesitantly, and Steve glared. 

"Why? What for? You don't need to talk to any sentinels. And you've never been interested in any guide stuff."

"Whoa! Whoa there, cowboy. Put away the six-shooter. I was just thinking, you know, we could offer them some tips on how we are dealing with Center bullshit. That's all."

"Oh, yeah. Right." Steve picked his lemon slice out of his glass and squeezed it over his water, making a face when he took a sip. Weirdo sentinel. 

"You want me to give you a bottled water?" Danny said ultra-patiently.

"Would you? That would be awesome."

Danny rolled his eyes and handed one over. "Anything else, your highness?"

"Some wet wipes? I forgot mine in the truck."

"You mean that electric blue monstrosity you purchased with your settlement?"

"That's my baby," Steve said, grinning so hard his cheeks were all dimples. 

"The one you refuse to let us drive on cases because it just might get scratched?"

"It's still got that new smell!"

Danny shook his head in disgust. "Were you serious about the wet wipes?"

"Nah. I'll get 'em later. Let's go talk to these sentinels."

Danny frowned. "And guides." 

"Yeah. That's what you're after," Steve said under his breath, and strode toward the group clustered by the lectern. The foursome, three men and one woman, were oddly isolated from the rest of the cops at the seminar, and Danny wondered if they wanted it that way or if they were being ostracized.

They all seemed to turn in sync when Steve and Danny approached, and Danny suppressed a shiver. 

"Hi, you guys. I'm Steve McGarrett of the Five-0 task force, and this is my partner Detective Danny Williams." 

"Don't look at me, I'm not a cop," one guy said, a really good-looking fellow about Danny's height with dark hair. He was wearing a brightly printed Hawaiʻian shirt, so Danny wasn't all that surprised by his claim. "Thomas Magnum, Private Investigator. Call me 'Magnum.' This is—"

"I can introduce myself very well, thank you," the blond woman next to him said in a very posh accent that gave him immediate flashbacks to Rachel. "Juliet Higgins. Reluctantly, I guide this idiot—purely on a business partnership basis."

"A...business partnership," Danny said, sneaking a glance at Steve, who had his mouth open. 

"Yes, quite. I have to admit I was more than a little intrigued to hear of your recent contretemps with the Center."

Magnum mouthed the word 'contretemps' with a puzzled frown.

Higgins explained, "These fellows got out of their contracts by having the governor strong-arm the Center."

"I wouldn't go that far," Steve said. "Governor Denning elected to have us contract with the HPD separately, yeah."

"Which most agencies choose not to do—the Center has too much of a monopoly."

"But maybe—maybe," Danny said, snapping his fingers, "we can get the governor to do the same thing for you. Especially since it's proved to work out at a savings for the State of Hawaiʻi."

"You really think you can swing that?" another man said, a Korean guy wearing the kind of suit a cop could afford. 

"No doubt; I have seen these two gentlemen accomplish the most remarkable feats," the other man said, leaning out from behind the taller guy. Holy crap, it was Max Bergman.

"Max!" Steve said. "I didn't know you were coming to this shindig."

"I wouldn't miss it, Commander McGarrett. I don't believe you've met my guide, Detective Gordon Katsumoto. Gordon, this is Steve McGarrett and Detective Williams."

"I've heard a lot about you guys," Katsumoto said, totally deadpan. Danny could imagine. He gave the guy a sympathetic handshake.

"I promise: whatever Max has told you, Steve is a thousand times worse."

Gordon mimed disbelief.

"Hey!" Steve said feelingly, and Magnum laughed.

Gordon returned to topic. "What do you think about getting the governor to back us in signing with the HPD directly? We're up for renegotiations at the end of March."

"We are as well," Higgins put in.

"No doubt," Steve said. "I know Max is an invaluable resource to the task force, and you all deserve to serve the state without a leash. And with the trouble the Center is going through right now, they don't have a political leg to stand on."

Gordon smiled tightly and nodded, and Max beamed, bouncing on his toes. Magnum and Higgins looked less convinced, but they all handed over their cards, and Steve promised to get in touch. They grabbed a table together to wait for the next round of sessions.

Steve said before sitting down, "I'm gonna go grab my handy-wipes. I feel gross." 

"Him and his handy-wipes," Danny said. 

"They're my special brand," Steve whined. "They don't bug my skin."

"Yadda-yadda. Go on, you big softie." Danny said it with a wink to Higgins, who cracked a smile finally, smirking at Magnum.

"I am too," Magnum said confidentially as Steve sped off. "I have baby-soft skin. I'm kind of in love with the artisan soaps at this place. I'm gonna have to steal a bunch."

Higgins slapped a hand over her face. Danny could sympathize. 

"My skin, on the other hand, is atypically non-reactant to common allergens. My sen-pediatrician speculated that I processed data at such an accelerated rate I was able to identify their benign status on a subconscious level—rapidly enough to interrupt the sentinel biofeedback cycle."

"Fascinating," Danny lied. Gordon gazed at Max, proud as anything. 

"I'm allergic to pomegranates," Magnum said.

"Yes. So much so that he swells up purple like Violet Beauregarde."

"I go cyanotic in under fifteen seconds," Magnum said smugly.

"I'm quite handy at administering micro-doses of adrenaline and corticosteroids," Higgins said blandly, but her hand tightened on her water glass, Danny noticed.

Max and Magnum suddenly jerked their heads toward the back of the room. 

"Steve!" Max said, and Magnum jumped up.

"What? What is—"

"Call an ambulance to the parking lot," Magnum said to Higgins. "There's been a shooting."

They almost overturned the table getting to their feet and all darted toward the emergency exit that led to the parking lot, their weapons drawn. 

Danny was the first out and knew just where to go. As he charged forward, he caught a flicker of movement behind Steve's truck—a freckled arm pointing a gun downward. 

"Five-0! Danny yelled, and the gun turned toward him. Danny couldn't see the shooter, he was hidden behind the cab of the truck, but Danny aimed toward the shimmer of ill-intent he felt was there. Just like on his first case with Steve, Danny fired confidently through the panes of glass, and heard a shout of pain and watched the glimmer dart away.

"Did you see him?" Danny said to Max.

"No. Where's the Commander?"

Together they rounded the truck, and oh, God. Oh, God. Steve lay on his face by his truck. That bastard had shot him in the back.

"No-no-no-no-no," Danny moaned, holstering his gun and scrambling over to Steve.

"Don't turn him," Max said urgently. "You mustn't twist his spine, Detective."

"Right, right," Danny said. He yanked off his tie and wadded it up to press it against the blood seeping up from Steve's back. "This isn't happening. This isn't happening." 

Max joined him and pressed his hands directly on another wound. "His pulse is weak," he said. "Keep up the pressure."

"Where's Magnum?" Higgins said, running up.

"He went after the shooter," Gordon said. In the distance, Danny could already hear an ambulance approaching. Thank God.

Danny's eyes drifted away from Steve's face, from the way his ridiculously long lashes fanned his cheek. Steve's sidearm was on the ground. Blood from Steve's wounds had spread to reach the grip. Steve would hate that. He'd really hate having to clean the blood from all those tiny crevices. He'd be bitching about it till Sunday.

"His pulse is weakening," Max said.

A field of blue surrounded Danny, and he was running, chasing the black panther in the grass. The panther was fast, but it was hurt, making hoarse, panting sounds as it lunged just beyond Danny's grasp. 

"Slow down, you stupid, stupid...just let me." Danny caught up to it at the water's edge, where the panther bent down to drink and collapsed, its muzzle falling below the surface.

"No-no-no," Danny moaned. Its sides weren't moving. He reached out but his hands turned into a wolf's paws, and as he knelt down to touch the panther there was a blue flash and—

"Danny, you can ease up now; the EMTs are here." Max tugged on Danny's hands, and he sat back, afraid to know.

"Is he...?"

"He faltered for a moment, but he's still alive," Max said, his voice wobbling. "I am sure Commander McGarrett will pull through. He's a very strong man."

"He's an idiot, is what he is." Danny lifted his arm to wipe his face. "If he dies over a couple of wet-wipes, I will kill him all over again."

The three EMTs worked fast, flipping Steve onto a backboard and getting an IV line into him. Higgins, Gordon, and Max were doing their best to keep the crowd back. A couple of HPD squad cars roared up and some cops piled out to help out. Danny just stood there feeling helpless.

The EMTs loaded Steve onto the ambulance, but they wouldn't let Danny on. "I'm sorry, sir. Not enough room." They spun off, leaving Danny on the tarmac with no idea. No idea.

Danny's vision went blurry. He blinked hard and walked over to his car, wiping his hands on his pants so he could get his keys out.

"Excuse me, Detective Williams, but I think it's best if you let me drive," Higgins said, looking determined.

"You've got to be kidding me."

She just held out her hand patiently. Danny dropped the keys in it and went to the passenger side. She unlocked the doors and he slumped down into the seat. 

"If I ever get to drive this car, it will be a miracle," he said then choked back a sob. No. Please, God, he'd let Steve drive the Camaro into the ground if that was what it took. He just had to be all right.

Higgins' driving rivaled Steve's; Danny winced multiple times as they caught up to the ambulance and followed it to Tripler. But it all happened under a dense fog of unreality. He couldn't think. He could hardly breathe.

At the hospital, it wasn't much better. They sat in the waiting room waiting for news. Kono and Chin showed up to share the agony. Higgins and Max alternated bringing in bad coffee. Katsumoto was still on-site, handling the scene. Danny tried to read a magazine but it was like the words were in Martian. He couldn't focus.

Then Magnum showed up, a fierce grin on his face. He was accompanied by a handsome black guy that had about two feet on him.

"This is TC, everyone. He helped me track down this guy." Magnum flashed them a picture on his phone. "You know him? Name's Nick Taylor. He's been in the news lately connected to the Center."

"Oh, I know him," Danny said, rage burning. "You guys got him?"

"Looks like you got him," Magnum said with satisfaction. "We chased him down until we found a corpse."

"So, he's dead," Kono said grimly.

"Dead all right," TC said. "Didn't look like he enjoyed it any, either. Shot twice. Gut shot and one in the collarbone."

"Steve," Danny said under his breath. At least one of those was Steve's.

"Excuse me, are you folks here for Commander McGarrett?"

Everyone turned, and Danny pushed forward to meet the man in scrubs, a sandy-haired guy with pale blue eyes and wire-rimmed glasses.

"I'm his partner, Danny Williams."

"The news isn't very good, I'm afraid. Commander McGarrett has suffered a devastating trauma to his liver. A bullet has cut it into multiple fragments making the entire organ inoperable." The surgeon paused heavily. "If he doesn't receive a new liver in the next few hours, he will die. That's not enough time to wait for the donor's list. We'll have to rely on a living donation."

"Living donation. What does that mean?" Danny asked roughly.

"A healthy adult can donate a portion of their liver to someone who needs it."

"I'm in," Chin said.

"Same here," Kono threw out.

"We can certainly run some tests to see which, if any, of you are a tissue match," the doc said.

"Let's just save everybody some time, okay?" Danny said, not even thinking about it. "Steve and I are the same blood type. Let's just use mine."

The doc looked at him and nodded. "We can try. Please come this way." The doc hustled him out to be tested. 

As Danny suspected, he was a perfect match. Kono volunteered to run and pick up little Gracie so she could see him before the surgery. Not that he thought anything would go wrong; it wouldn't. Everything would be fine, and he told her so to her worried little face, wiped her tears, and gave her a huge hug. Maybe it was selfish of him to do this, to risk his life for Steve, but then he risked his life every day. How was this any different?

Kono also went into the operating room, scrubs in place, to see Steve and give a blessing.

"His body is weak," she said afterward, tears standing in her eyes. "But he has mana; so does this hospital, and so does your gift, Danny. You have lots of mana from your actions." She put her hand on his abdomen, and he felt warm there as she whispered her blessing.

"Thanks, Kono," he said, feeling suddenly calm.

They rolled him into the operating room, and he lifted his head just enough to see Steve on the other table, still unconscious. They were going to put part of him into Steve. It was such a weird thought, but Danny wasn't grossed out at all. He wasn't even scared anymore, thanks to Kono. He just wanted to get on with it. He wanted Steve to live. He wanted Steve to wake up so he could give him a piece of his mind about going around getting shot without Danny to back him up.

"Please count down from ten, Mr. Williams," the anesthesiologist said.

"It's Danny. Or, Danno, but only...to a...select..."

"Please take deep breaths through your nose."

"Okay."

* * *

Danny woke up and he was still alive; so was Steve.

Sure, there were drugs running through Danny's body, making him pain-free, but he was high for another reason when he heard the news. They wheeled him into recovery, and he crashed hard, so relieved he thought he might sleep for a week.

They had Steve in the ICU for twenty-four hours, so Danny couldn't visit, not that he felt like moving much—ow—and then they dragged Danny out for some tests. When he got back, Steve was in Danny's room, asleep and still alive.

Alive, sleeping, and with a faint snore coming from his lips. It wasn't cute. Not even a bit.

"You irritate me to no end, you know that?" Danny said conversationally to Steve's comatose body. "You exasperate me, and annoy me, and drive me up the wall like I can't even believe, and I think if you had died, it would have killed me. Don't do that again. Don't you even think of doing it. You're supposed to be invincible. I count on you for that, and it really fucked up my world when you...you just were..." Danny's throat tightened unbearably, and he had to stop. He palmed the tears off his face and stared at Steve's profile. "Just don't, okay? Don't."

He almost expected Steve to wake up at that moment, but he didn't, and after a while, Danny realized he could feel it—he could feel Steve under the layers of pain and confusion and drugs. Steve was there underneath, not sleeping but not awake, and waiting for something. 

A nurse bustled in and took Danny's vitals, marked his chart, then took Steve's. When he touched Steve's wrist, he reacted, his eyes opening, nostrils flaring.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Danny said, worried Steve would tear some stitches trying to throw the 200-pound nurse across the room. 

"Danno?" Steve said. He sounded foggy; didn't even turn his head.

"I'll get the doctor," the nurse said and left quickly.

"Yeah, I'm right here. You're at Tripler. You got shot up, remember?"

"Oh, fuck. Nick."

"Yeah, Nick."

"Where is he? Is he still a threat?" Steve put his hands against the mattress.

"Don't move, you lunkhead," Danny said. "You're not going anywhere for a while." 

"Why?" Steve finally looked at him. "Danny! Are you okay? Why are you in bed?"

"Am I okay, he asks. Yes and no. It's complicated. You got shot up pretty bad, Steve. You needed a liver transplant."

"Oh, God, that's right. They told me." Steve groaned. "I can't believe you did that."

"Why? You think I'm some kind of a schmuck who wouldn't take care of his partner? You think I'd let you die?"

"No, no, no," Steve said, rolling his head back and forth. "I just can't believe I did that to you."

"You? You didn't do anything but get shot like a big dummy. That was all Taylor's fault. Who bled out, by the way. We got him good."

"We did?"

"Yeah. Magnum tracked him to a hidey-hole. Taylor died slow and painful."

"I shouldn't be happy about that."

"Yeah, me, too." Danny didn't try to fight the savage grin. "He had it coming, all right? I just wish he hadn't shot you in the process. What happened?"

Steve bit his lip. "He rigged the siren in the truck. I opened the door and it went off. Stunned me for a sec. He came up behind me and shot me before I could hear any-damned-thing. But I'm pretty sure I got one shot off at him. He looked surprised as fuck."

"You done good," Danny said soothingly. "I just wish I'd been there."

"Me, too, Danny." Steve bit his lip. "Listen: there's something I've been meaning to tell you, that I need to tell you, okay? I should have told you a long time ago, but I was afraid you'd freak out."

"What, Steve?" Shit, now Danny was scared. Liver transplant, no problem. Talking? A serious threat. "Just tell me, okay? Give it to me straight." 

Steve closed his eyes before saying, "You make me a better sentinel, all right? I mean, I always like having you around, for obvious reasons—uh, you're my partner," he said. "But I've been leaning on you as my guide all along. Having you near heightens my senses, helps me recover more quickly from sensory shocks. And I know that's not what you want to hear, but—"

"I know that." Danny did. Of course he did; he realized he always did. "You think I don't know that?"

"Oh. You do?" Steve opened his eyes wide. 

"Of course I do."

"Okay, well, I just thought you should know."

"I do know." Danny scratched his jaw. "But thanks for telling me."

"You're welcome." Steve smiled, his eyes tearing up with gratitude. "Thanks for the liver, Danno." 

"Half a liver. Go to sleep. You have some growing to do."

"That sounds really weird," Steve said, yawning.

"You think that's weird—I have to do the same thing."

* * *

Once they were both out of the woods, their ohana decided to throw a party. Everyone from Kamekona to their new sensate buddies and their friends showed up.

"The governor sends his best regards to Commander McGarrett and Detective Williams, and his thanks to Dr. Bergman, Detective Katsumoto, Ms. Higgins, Mr. Magnum, and Mr. Calvin in particular for their invaluable assistance," Kono read off the card.

The group shared a look between them. Then Magnum said, "I sure hope that means what I think it means about our prospects."

"I already called him," Steve said. "You guys can start contract negotiations next week."

"You? You're still under heavy medication. What are you doing calling the governor?" Danny asked. 

"We're ohana," Steve said stubbornly. "And these guys' contracts are up in a little more than a month. We gotta move on it." 

"You aren't moving more than a big toe. Kono, please open the next card."

Turned out, Steve received fifty times more presents and cards than Danny—how was that even fair?

"I mean, who's the life-bringer, here?"

"You are, Danno," Steve said. He tossed a blond plushie bear at Danny. "Here, this little guy looks just like you."

"He's got nothing of my savoir faire." Danny squeezed the bear, rubbing it between his fingers. It was ridiculously soft. "They give you all the softest stuff. Me, they give the cheap bear, the one made of iron filings."

Everyone laughed. 

"I thought you had tough skin?" Steve teased. His eyes—Jesus, he had to stop looking at Danny like that, or people would think, they'd think—

Danny's brain stopped.

"You okay, Danny?" Chin asked, his arm around Malia, who looked like she was ready to spring to Danny's aid like Mermaid Dr. Barbie.

TC said, "Maybe we're making him tired. We should bug out."

"Good idea, TC," his buddy Rick said. "You need us to take off, Detective?"

"I'm getting a little achy, that's all," Danny said, taking a quick gander at Steve, who seemed a little washed out. 

"Oh, sorry, Danny," Steve said. 

Kono said, "That's no good, brah. A guy gives you his liver, you gotta to treat him right." 

Danny rolled his eyes. He wasn't the one got all shot up. 

"I wish you the very best recovery, Detective," Higgins said, pressing a hand to Danny's forearm, then nodding at Steve. "You, too, Commander."

"Thanks, Higgins. Thanks again, everyone, for saving my life. I'm gonna see if there's a card for that."

"If not, I'm sure Hallmark will make a stack of ‘em just for you," Danny said and got another stuffed animal chucked at him for his troubles.

Folks started leaving. Malia said, "I'll check up on you personally and make sure the staff knows you're both ohana."

"Mahalo."

"Thanks, Malia." 

She smiled sweetly then gave Chin a kiss and left.

"Aw, so cute," Kono said, punching Chin, who looked dumbfoundedly happy as ever. 

"Just wait till you fall in love, cuz."

"That'll be the day." Kono leaned over Steve's bed. "Glad you made it, boss," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Yeah. We'd sure hate to break in a new guy," Chin quipped.

"What do mean 'new guy'?" Steve said. "You’re next in seniority, Chin. They’re all your problem if you let me croak."

"Can we not talk about this? Let's not talk about this," Danny said. "You're fine, Steven, and you're gonna be fine. You just have to take it easy for four months or so, can you do that? I'm going to race you, okay? First one to regrow his liver wins."

Steve grinned cockily. "You're on, Danny." 

"That bet's gonna last, like, ten minutes," Chin said under his breath.

"Hush. You'll jinx him," Kono said, grabbing Chin's arm and pulling him toward the door. "Goodnight, boys."

"Goodnight, Kono, Chin," Steve said. "Thanks for bringing all the cards and presents."

"Yeah, thanks a lot," Danny said, waiting until the door closed to say, "even if you got a ton more than I did. How come, may I ask? Am I not the more approachable, between the steely-eyed Navy sentinel and the wise-cracking, laid-back Jersey detective?"

"Laid-back," Steve said, snorting his opinion of Danny's very honest words.

"I'll have you know my high school classmates voted me Most Zen."

Steve choked on his lemon water. Wiping off his face, he said, "I believe that, buddy, I really do."

"You should. It wasn't until I met you that I turned into a heaving mass of barely controlled neuroses."

"I what now? Turned you? Little old me?" Steve shifted toward him and batted his eyes. Danny could feel—God, he could feel the surge of love and affection, of trust and admiration flowing toward him, and he just didn't freaking know what to do with that, he really didn't. What if he fucked it up? What if he screwed up everything just because he— 

"I had a best friend named Benito," Danny said hoarsely. "We were like seven, maybe. I'd have to look it up."

Steve's smile disappeared. 

Danny slowly got out of his bed to sit on the edge of Steve's. "This isn't in my records because the Center didn't know because I didn't know what Benito's dad... Benito was just a neighborhood friend; he was a great kid, you know? His dad, not so much. Connected, who knows how deep, but in our neighborhood, we knew not to mess with Big Ben's car or his hedge or his lawn mower or anything on his property, if you get my drift. He was Family."

Steve nodded.

"So, one day, I'm over at Benito's, and we're playing in the street, you know, just hitting rocks with his baseball bat like kids do, except just as Big Ben comes down the street, Benito gets hold of a good one and knocks it clear down the street and smashes the windshield of Big Ben's car coming up the block.

"Well, shit! Benito shoves the bat into my stupid hands, and I just stand there while Big Ben drives up and comes stomping over, Benito hiding behind me yelling, 'It was him, Papa; he done it.' And I'm too piss frightened to move."

"Holy shit, D."

"Big Ben reaches down and grabs me, and here's what I didn't know—Benito Capo, Sr., was a house painter, right? Little me, already pissing my 501s, and a hitman just grabs me and lifts me in the air and whammo! I'm smacked in the brain with the murder this guy committed not half an hour earlier."

"Jesus, Danny," Steve said, taking Danny's hand and holding it. Danny squeezed Steve's broad, calloused hand, holding back tears. The memory was so clear now; he'd somehow forgotten it all, but it had been coming back in flickers and bits over the past while. And he couldn't ignore it anymore.

"Big Ben shakes me and says, 'You disrespect my vehicle like that? A man's vehicle is his pride.' And Benito is behind him going, 'Yeah, Papa, yeah!' Behind my eyeballs, I see a complete stranger getting a screwdriver or something jammed into his throat and his eyes bugging out, so I start screaming at the top of my lungs."

Steve curls around him. Danny leans in, his voice grating in his throat.

"This freaks out Big Ben, like somehow he didn't realize he was roughing up a little kid in the middle of a suburban block, because lights go on all around and Ben drops me and turns and stomps back to his car. I land on my ass on the pavement and crawl over to the sidewalk to sniffle in peace. Benito goes running after his pop, and after they pull into their driveway, I manage to scramble up and run all the way home."

"Christ, Danny, I can't—that's so fucked up." Steve rubs his cheek against Danny's. "Did you tell your folks?"

"No, I didn't tell my folks. Are you nuts? They would've kicked up a fuss and it would've gotten them both killed. I went to my room and cleaned up and pretended it never happened. And as far as I was concerned, it didn't. I never saw what I saw, Benito and his dad didn't exist, and..." Danny took a deep breath. "...if that was being a guide, then I was having none of it."

Steve nodded. "I get it, Danny. You didn't have to tell me this. You never had to explain to me. It's your business."

"No, you don't get it."

"I do! I really do. Jesus, you were traumatized. It's not surprising you went latent and suppressed your abilities. Why shouldn't you? I'd do the same thing."

"No, you wouldn't. I mean, sure, when you were a kid, but now? If it meant saving my life?"

"You did save my life," Steve said fondly, leaning back and squeezing his hand again. "Right in the nick of time."

"But I could have done better. Don't you get it? If I'd been active, I would have picked up on Taylor's intent. Not to mention, I would have known you were in danger that much sooner."

"You can't seriously be blaming yourself. You got him! You saved my life."

"I'm not blaming myself, you dummy. I'm saying...what I'm trying to say is..." Danny licked his lips. Steve's eyes dropped to his mouth. Danny groaned. "You big dope. I want to be your guide."

Steve's mouth dropped open, his jaw moving wordlessly.

"Is that a yes?" Danny joked nervously. "That better be a yes."

"Of course it's yes! Jesus, Danny, I'd give anything." Steve's smile was heartbreaking. 

"Good. Then that's settled." Danny grinned, his heart beat like crazy.

"Great." Steve's eyes flickered back down to Danny's mouth. "Does this mean I... Will you—that you...fuck!" Steve licked his lower lip and said, "What about...kissing?"

"Huh?" Danny tracked Steve's wet lower lip. "Sentinels don't kiss?"

"What? Yes, they—I'm saying you don't have to...to kiss me. I'm fine with...you know, platonic partners, whatever."

"I read the books! You don't have to kiss me for me to guide you, either," Danny said stubbornly. God, Steve was pretty. 

"What? You're so...oh, my God. Could you just kiss me and we could argue about what it means later?"

"That's a good plan. Excellent, off the cuff plan," Danny said. "You’re good at those."

"Wow, a compliment," Steve tried to say, except Danny kissed the jerk. His awkward, moose-limbed, doofus of a sentinel. Danny would never understand where sentinels got their sleek, stealthy reputations, because this dopey lunkhead might be a good kisser, but...okay, he was beyond good, sweet and deep, with his hand rubbing Danny's thigh in sync and his teeth nibbling like that. Danny's wound meant he couldn't maneuver very well, but Steve pushed the button to tilt the bed up and then it was easy-peasy, face-to-face and gentle, soft kisses, Steve's tongue pushing into Danny's mouth like he wanted to fuck him with it.

"Whoa," Danny said when his dick got a little too interested in the proceedings. "Don't forget we're in a hospital."

"Damn," Steve whispered, nuzzling Danny's cheek. "You smell so good. I wanted this so bad, Danny. Why'd you make me wait?"

"Me? You're going to blame me? You're the one with the failure to communicate."

Steve pulled away and rubbed a thumb under Danny's lips. "Maybe you weren't listening."

"Oh, oh, that's very nice! I like that! Here you are kissing me up and picking a fight at the same moment." Danny nipped Steve's thumb with his teeth and then flicked it with his tongue. Steve's eyes closed and he flushed even deeper, a pretty dark hue that made Danny want to lick him all over. He settled for another kiss, and Steve responded gratifyingly quickly. 

Danny felt a tingle resonate in the back of his head and suddenly he felt inexplicably wider, as if his brain was filling with space. He giggled and pulled back.

"Did you feel that?" God, he was high. This feeling was so great, like flying through a tunnel, like being immense, his lungs expanding.

"Danny," Steve said, his voice hushed. He gripped Danny's waist. "You're—"

"I'm coming online." He could feel it all so clearly, the edges of Steve's mental barriers, and how easy it would be to pierce them and know everything about him. Not that Danny would do that. What had he been afraid of? The control of a child was nothing to the discipline of an adult. He could handle this. He could learn to...oh, fuck.

Steve's love for him hit him like a solid wave, not that pale trickle he'd been picking up before, but a huge burst as Steve eased down his barrier to let Danny feel him.

Danny whimpered.

"Sorry, sorry," Steve said. "Too much?"

"God, that's amazing," Danny said. He lifted his head. "You're amazing." The pure, dark blue energy of him shot clean into Danny's mind. Danny leaned forward and clutched him and let go a little, just a little.

"Danny," Steve said, sounding breathless. "You're so perfect. Like gold. Like the sun." He groaned.

"Jesus, this is like heroin. How do the other duos handle it?"

"I guess they keep it to the bedroom?" Steve chuckled weakly against his neck. "I can't believe we're finally bonded. Danny, Danny." He kissed Danny again, slowly. "I love you, Danny."

"Yeah, I'm getting that." Danny swallowed. "I love you, too, Steve. Jesus, so much." 

"I kind of figured, what with you giving me your liver and all." Steve's eyes crinkled in a fond grin. Danny couldn't stand it. Something would go wrong any second: Steve's body would reject the liver, even though the danger period had passed, or the bond would cause feedback trauma, a real problem Danny read about. 

"We're so screwed," he moaned, and Steve lit up.

"There's my guy. That's my Danno."

Well, it could be worse. Danny could have picked someone who didn't get him.

* * *

Epilogue

The First Annual Free Sensate Conference was held on Oahu in December. There were symposiums on legal methods for severing contracts with the Center, strategies for offering incentives to local agencies to engage directly with individuals instead of through traditional conduits, classes on sentinel and guide homecare, child development workshops, outreach for disabled and aging sensates, and tons and tons of networking to help each other in applying pressure on known contacts in the big three: FBI, CIA, NSA, as well as military brass, to deal directly with sensates instead of going through the usual channels.

"Can you believe this?" Steve said, munching on some pickled mango. Danny eyed it with distrust. Honestly, what the folks here did to unsuspecting fruit. He took a peek into Steve's pleasure and shivered. So intense.

He'd seriously cheated himself all these years thinking sentinels got all of the best parts of the deal.

He tucked his arm around Steve's waist. "Yes, I can believe it, because we spent all year organizing it with all our buddies. Now can we sit back and take a three-week nap? Oh, shrimp puff." Danny grabbed one.

"Nah. We're staging a press conference later, remember?" Steve waved to Magnum, who was strolling by eating some shave ice courtesy of Kamekona and ignoring an angrily gesturing Higgins. 

"Oh, God. Steven, I beg of you, do not make me participate in that. I'm terrible in front of the press. I will fumble and I will stumble and I will make an idiot of myself."

"Then let me do the talking, and you just stand there and look pretty," Steve said, giving him a wink. "And later, I'll do that thing you like. You know, when I..." He leaned over and whispered something in Danny's ear that made him flush so fast his nipples got hard. Steve had a very strong tongue, and he knew what to do with it, and he generally had to pin Danny down when he used it, so. Yeah.

"It's a deal," Danny said hoarsely, reaching for a napkin. 

"Awesome. Hey, Max! Gordon, howzit?" 

"Detective Williams. Commander McGarrett," they both said in perfect sync. Danny and Steve had been after them all year to can the formalities, but no go. 

"The proceedings are going very well," Max said. "I have thirty attendees signed up for my workshop on sentinel home care."

"And it sounds like a full house on the CSGD Remediation seminar." 

Chin and Kono appeared by the buffet, interrupting the conversation to say hello to everyone. "I still think the key is to dismantle the legislation that has kids being tested and monitored before parents know what's up. All in the name of 'child welfare,'" Kono said eventually.

"Indeed." Chin nodded.

"I'm all for it. We have plenty of lawyers. Let's put them to work pro bono," Magnum chipped in, walking up with Higgins.

"Everything is pro bono with you," she said. 

"It's their butts on the line, too, isn't it? And their children's?"

"Let's save it for the seminar," Danny said. Sheesh, those two. So married. "Speaking of which, it's just about time to go in. Shall we?"

"Let's go," Steve said, offering his elbow, and Danny took it, stepping with him arm-in-arm through the big glass doors and into the future.

...............................  
January 25, 2020  
San Francisco, CA

**Author's Note:**

> Benito Capo is fashioned after Anthony "Tony" Capo, a soldier and hitman of the Jersey DeCavalcante crime family during the 80s. He turned government witness in 1999 and pled guilty to 11 murder conspiracies, including stabbing a guy in the face and eye.
> 
> Some dialogue paraphrased or used directly from H50 and Sentinel eps as follows:  
> The Sentinel  
> S1E1 – _Pilot_ : Blair talks latent and suppressed abilities  
> S3E17 – _Remembrance_ : More on trauma and suppressed abilities 
> 
> H50  
> S1E1 – _Pilot_ dialog  
> S4E19 – _Ku I Ka Pili Koko (Blood Brothers)_ Trapped in rubble dialog  
> S6E11 – _Kuleana (Responsibility)_ Reference to the couples therapy episode  
> S6E25 – _O Ke Ali’I Wale No Ka’u Makemake (My Desire Is Only for the Chief)_ Doctor dialog


End file.
